


Happy Trails, Old Friend

by ead13



Series: Emphasis on Redemption [4]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur being supportive in his way, But he lived a good long life, Gen, Kieran lives happily ever after AU, Kieran's kids, RIP Branwen, grief and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 17:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21275090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ead13/pseuds/ead13
Summary: Branwen has been with Kieran through the worst and best times of his life, but now his time is up, having made it to a ripe old age. Kieran can't hardly imagine a life without his faithful companion, but he realizes just how full his life has become in all the best ways.





	Happy Trails, Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I'd write something about Branwen dying. I guess to delve into Kieran's relationship with his horse. Hey, at least they all got a happy life here!

“Papa! Papa! Something’s wrong with Branny!”

Kieran could feel a knot of dread form in the pit of his stomach. This news shouldn’t surprise him; he’d noticed how Branwen was faltering, and when he really thought about it (which he rarely had time to do now that he was juggling five kids and counting), his longtime companion was old. Actually, very old. Considering Branwen had been middle-aged, probably in his teens when he was assigned to him in the army, that meant he had lived a damn good, long life for a horse.

Knowing that didn’t make the thought of saying goodbye any easier. No doubt Becky was the bearer of bad news.

“Let me have a look at ‘im,” he answered quickly, dropping the curry comb he had been using to brush one of his charges. Still, he did his best to remain calm for his daughter’s sake as he closed the door to the stall. No need to start the little girl crying. Before he could take her hand, she was running on ahead to the pasture where Branwen spent his golden years grazing in peace. Even from a distance, he could see the flaxen roan horse was lying on the ground. He could hear the sound of weak braying carrying across the field. No, this wasn’t good at all.

By now, Leah had heard the commotion and come running from across the yard where she had been feeding the chickens. “Papa, what’s wrong?”

Kieran stopped and waited for his second-eldest to join them, but it wasn’t long before Becky was tugging on his arm. Linked together, they finally arrived at Branwen’s side. The old boy’s breathing was labored, more of a shudder than anything. It didn’t take more than a second to understand the situation. “Girls, you oughtta say yer goodbyes to ol’ Branwen.”

“You mean he’s gonna die?” Becky looked at him with wide-eyed horror.

He reached up and rubbed his beard, trying to pass off his anxious energy so they wouldn’t catch it. “Horses don’t live as long as people do, sweetie. As far as horses go, Branwen is a real old man. Most of ‘em don’t even live to be this old. He’s had a good life, a very happy one here with us.”

“We can’t help him?” Leah wondered sadly, reaching out to pet the quivering animal gently. Becky followed suit.

Kieran just shook his head, gritting his teeth to keep his emotions in check. “That’s just how it is. But he’s lucky that in the end he’s safe and loved and taken care of. Not every horse gets that.” He was trying to encourage himself just as much as his daughters at this point. The only thing making this easier was the heart-warming way they hugged the ailing creature, burying their faces into his well-groomed coat. They had grown up with Branwen, riding the gentle horse when they were still small enough for him to carry their weight. Yes, so much love. All the love he deserved.

“You two take yer time sayin’ goodbye. I’m gonna go find yer ma and let her know.” More than that, though, he was going to see if he could convince Mary-Beth to take the kids to Uncle Arthur’s farm for a visit so he could put his dear friend out of his misery without having to worry about traumatizing his kids. Also, so he could cry about it in private.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He thought he’d have to work harder to convince her, but Mary-Beth was a saint. Even juggling five children under the age of 10 and half-way towards their sixth, she quickly agreed to give him the space he needed. Emma went to say her goodbyes too before being packed up in the wagon, but Rachel and Kieran were too young to comprehend the situation. Mary-Beth would have visited the old horse too, but she had her hands more than full. Instead, she pulled him into a long embrace. “I’m so sorry, dear. I know Branwen means the world to you. When I get back and the kids get settled, we can talk.”

“Thanks, darlin’, for everything,” he murmured, squeezing her tight. “I think I’m gonna need it. That and a bottle o’ whiskey…”

When she released him, she found Becky and Leah at her skirts. “Papa, are you okay?”

He kneeled down to pull both of his girls into a big hug. “This is gonna be very hard for me. I love Branwen very much. But he’s sufferin’, and it wouldn’t be fair to make ‘im keep sufferin’. Sometimes when ya love somethin’ you gotta let it go.” Damn, his eyes were getting misty!

“Should I stay with you?” Becky wondered, looking up at him and no doubt seeing every hint of distress in his face.

He gave a small smile. “No, sweetie. Sometimes ya hafta have some space away from other people. But when you both get back, I’m gonna need another hug, okay?”

“Okay.”

Finally, everyone was packed up and the wagon was heading down the road. That just left Kieran wrapped in an abnormal silence. He went to go pull out his shotgun. This had to be a clean kill, but as he reached for the firearm, he realized his hands were shaking badly. They continued to do so as he checked the ammunition and gunpowder. How the hell was he supposed to be able to do this?

In the end he decided that he’d just sit with Branwen until sunset, maybe braid his mane one last time, see if he’d eat an apple. He’d wait until his friend was asleep before ending it.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

There were many tears in those precious hours, and he felt bad for it, as if it would upset Branwen even more. His breathing wasn’t much better, but at least his braying stopped as his favorite human settled down next to him. Kieran had suspected long ago that Branwen couldn’t really see anymore, having watched him bump into things. He always reacted to his voice, though, and that brought him some level of peace. He couldn’t eat the apple, just didn’t have the energy even though it was his favorite. This really was the end…

Kieran was so in the moment that he nearly missed the sound of hoof beats. Who in the world would be coming now? It was too late in the day for any customer to return for their horse, and the kids surely couldn’t be back this early. He didn’t really have the energy to get up and look. Once he got up, he’d have to pull the trigger.

“Kieran, I figured you’d be draggin’ yer heels.”

The familiar voice caused him to startle. “A-Arthur?”

He looked up to find the imposing figure of Arthur Morgan towering over him as robust as ever despite the onset of some graying hairs. “Heard ‘bout ol’ Branwen when yer brood showed up at my place. Puttin’ a horse to rest ain’t no one-man job, so I thought I’d come over and assist. I’m assumin’…” he gestured to the wide expanse of land their ranch covered, “there’ll need to be a proper burial.”

“Huh, yer right. Guess I didn’t think of that,” Kieran admitted, looking downcast. He turned his gaze to the sinking sun. “I ain’t got any more time left, do I? Not if I hafta get this done before they get back.”

“I reckon not. I also reckon…” he paused, scratching his head awkwardly. “I mean, if ya want, I could be the one to pull the trigger.”

It wasn’t the idea of the finality of a trigger pull; it was all the idea that Arthur was kind enough to offer. He lost it. “I’m sorry, I thought I was done with this!” he tried to explain, wiping the tears now streaming from his eyes as he stumbled to his feet. He didn’t want his emotions to disturb Branwen, who had fallen asleep. “It ain’t like I’m losin’ my wife or my kids, I got no reason to be actin’ like this…”

Arthur put a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Kieran, look at me.” The man struggled to obey, but Arthur refused to continue until he did. “I still remember how hard it was to lose Boadicea. I’d had that horse for a long time. But you and Branwen, even I know that was something more. You’d been down some pretty dark roads, all on yer own ‘cept for that horse. I know there were times he was all you had.”

Now Kieran was crying uncontrollably in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to yet, all desires to handle this like a man crumbling away. “I used to say that all I knew ‘bout life was that people kept dyin’ and I loved horses. I thought Branwen and I would die too, alone. I don’t think I would have even bothered to keep livin’ if I didn’t have him to take care of. We finally got lucky though, him an’ me. You fellers took us in, got me on my feet, and now I’ve got Mary-Beth and five beautiful children and a home, and…and…” Finally, he let himself fall weakly against Arthur’s shoulder. “He got me through it all, but now his time is done, and I have other things to be livin’ for. Just gonna be an awfully big hole. It’s gonna feel so wrong after all these years.”

It still was uncomfortable for Arthur, gruff as he was, to wrap his thick arms around the man, even for a few seconds of comfort. Still, he sucked it up for Kieran, because there was something touching about the idea that he trusted him like this with his vulnerabilities. Their relationship had always been one of mentor and mentee, perhaps the only one in Kieran’s entire life, and even after ten years and plenty of aging from both of them, that hadn’t changed. “That’s why I came, so you wouldn’t hafta do this alone. I’ll be the one to end it, so you don’t hafta.”

“B-but, Branwen is my horse, my responsibility,” Kieran protested weakly, pulling away.

“You have taken damn good care of that horse. There is no shame in lettin’ me do this,” Arthur insisted sternly. “Ain’t nobody gonna think less of ya for it, especially not when I’m offerin’.”

It wasn’t worth a fight, not when he really didn’t want to do it. “Fine. Gun’s over there,” he gestured before wiping his eyes roughly.

“Anything else you’ve gotta say to ‘im?”

“Naw. It’s been said. And he’s sleepin’. I don’t wanna wake ‘im.”

“All right. You go find some shovels and don’t come back ‘til you hear the shot.”

He did as requested, flinching at the harsh sound of the gun and squeezing his eyes shut from his position in the shed. It was over. When all was said and done, they had a hole dug and Branwen buried, mane braided and apple given for his road to whatever afterlife there was for horses. Kieran desperately wanted to believe they’d go to heaven same as people so they might be reunited again one day. The dirt was barely filled in when the wagon bearing his family came rolling on in.

Becky and Leah both jumped off as soon as it was stopped and came barreling towards their father, ignoring their Uncle Arthur completely. “Papa, we’re back!” They latched onto him immediately. 

“Girls, I’m so happy to see ya.” Kieran wrapped his arms around them, then cast a glance at the rest of his family. His other children were squirming impatiently to be lifted down, but Mary-Beth took the time to meet his gaze. The concern in her eyes touched his heart. She may be busy being a mother, but he knew without a doubt that she was the best wife a man could ask for. Then, he looked to Arthur, who seemed amused by his nieces’ open affection. When he saw him looking, he nodded and grabbed the shovels, heading to the shed to put them away.

Good Lord, Branwen was gone, but look at everything he had now, things he could only dream of when they’d first met. It would be hard, but he could survive this loss now.


End file.
